


The Hero

by aislingdoheanta



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 4x07 coda, Episode Related, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, episode coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1638767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aislingdoheanta/pseuds/aislingdoheanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to 4x07 where Ian wakes up in Mickey’s room and they have a sort of reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hero

**Author's Note:**

> I just need these boys to be happy. That’s all. Also, give them sexy times that are not rushed and actually allowed to show their connection and feelings.

The first thing Ian noticed when he woke up was that his mouth way dry and he could feel the nausea settling in. It was what happened most nights since he barely ate and sleep and drugs washed down by alcohol will do that to you.

The next thing he noticed was that he was alone. In someone’s room. The guys he tended to go home with wouldn’t dare leave a tweaked out boy like him alone with their stuff.

He glanced toward the window, noticing that it was still relatively dark outside. _Middle of the night then._

When he turned his head, that’s when he saw him. Mickey. He was hunched over the little desk in the room—his room. _Mickey’s_ room. Ian rubbed at his face, trying to clear away the haze. What the fuck was he doing in Mickey Milkovich’s room?

Glimpses from earlier flashed in his mind. Mickey showing up at the club. Dancing on Mickey, wanting so badly to touch, taste, claim him again. Taking drink after drink, pill after pill to forget about the fucking concern in his eyes, the words he said. He remembered the man who was trying to take him home, but can’t remember anything else.

Mickey must have brought him back to his house, his room, his fucking bed. Hell, the guy had even traveled to Boystown to try and find him. Ian felt like he was going to throw up or maybe cry.

He stood up and carefully made his way to the sleeping Mickey. He reached out a hand to shake his shoulder. “Hey, Mick?”

Mickey, as expected, jerked, instantly pushing Ian away.

“Mickey,” Ian said again.

“Ian.” Mickey looked at him. “So you’re not dead. You feeling okay?”

Ian rolled his neck. “Yeah. Little shaky, but you know.”

“Good.” Mickey threw himself at Ian, launching them both on the bed. “The fuck you think you’re doing, huh? For fucks sake Ian! You want to end up like fucking Frank?”

_Like you give a fuck_ was on the tip of Ian’s tongue, a natural response. But he knew the words weren’t true. Not anymore. They probably hadn’t been for a long time. “I’m sorry.”

Mickey stared at him, his brow raised in confusion. He had probably been expecting a fight, something. But Ian didn’t want to fight. He just, wanted Mickey.

“Mick, I—“ Whatever Ian had been going to say was cut off by Mickey’s mouth. He only paused for about a tenth of a second before his arms latched around Mickey, pulling him closer.

There were so many things he wanted to say—no that he _needed_ to say. Things that Mickey needed to hear. But all of them flew out the window because Mickey was here, Mickey was kissing him. Mickey fucking _cared_ about him.

Ian pushed himself up, effectively dropping Mickey into his lap. He kissed along Mickey’s jaw, kissing and marking his neck. His heart nearly launched itself out of his chest when Mickey made that fucking mewling noise he always made when Ian sucked on spot right below his ear.

And Mickey, Mickey was grabbing him in a way he never really had. He was always so hesitant with touch, with _affection_ even when it was just the two of them. But Mickey’s hand gripped Ian’s hair and Ian could have happily stayed there forever.

“I fucking missed you,” Ian whispered into Mickey’s skin. He had. It had felt like he was missing a limb, or quite possibly an organ, while he’d been away.

Mickey pulled Ian’s head up and attached his lips to Ian’s again, so fiercely it felt like he was trying to use Ian to breathe, like he was the air his body required. Ian would happily oblige.

“Mickey you—“

“You wanna keep talking or you wanna fuck?” Mickey interrupted.

Ian smirked and pulled at Mickey’s shirt, needing to feel the skin-to-skin contact, to make sure this was real, that Mickey wasn’t some fucked up hallucination. Mickey threw his own shirt away and grabbed at Ian’s before he kissed him again.

The shed the rest of their clothes, awkwardly and haphazardly—Ian still had on one sock and Mickey had gotten stuck in his own jeans. But it didn’t really fucking matter because they were together, and whole, and Mickey wanted this, wanted _Ian_ as badly as Ian wanted Mickey.

Mickey batted Ian’s hand away from his dick and reached over while Ian kissed and licked and nibbled over his chest. He wanted to mark every patch of skin he could find because he wanted Mickey to be his. He wanted to be claimed as Mickey’s.

Mickey threw the condom to Ian and reached around to prepare himself and Ian just couldn’t breathe, or see, or hear anything that wasn’t Mickey.

“Hurry the fuck up, firecrotch,” Mickey spat out.

Ian snapped to attention and rolled the condom on. He pulled Mickey to him, wrapping his legs around Ian’s. He glanced down at Mickey in question who just rolled his eyes. Ian took that as his go ahead. 

He pushed in and Mickey’s hand grabbed his.

The next few minutes were a haze of grabbing hands, quiet moans, and Ian thrusting. But it was enough because Ian knew it wasn’t going to be the last time. It _couldn’t_ be the last time.

He vaguely felt Mickey’s fingernails biting into his arm, but he did feel Mickey’s cum fall over the hand that had somehow wrapped itself around Mickey’s dick. It could have been seconds, minutes, or hours later that Ian collapsed onto Mickey chest after his own release. Time just didn’t fucking matter when he had Mickey there beneath him.

He could hear the buzzing in his ears as he laid on Mickey’s chest. Mickey’s legs still wrapped tightly around him. Ian gently kissed at his neck, trying to steady his racing heart. Mickey’s arms wrapped around him, one hand gently carding through his hair.

Ian never wanted to leave. 

But he did. They were both sweaty and full of cum. Ian strutted to the small bathroom connected with Mickey’s room to grab the small hand towel in there. He wiped himself before tossing it at Mickey.  He threw Mickey his boxers too.

Mickey was no longer looking at him.

Ian pulled his boxers on and ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t have to stay.”

“The fuck you talking about?” Mickey asked pretending to search for something.

“If you don’t want me to stay. I have somewhere I can go.”

Mickey looked at him, his gaze hard. But then his eyes softened and he clenched his jaw. “Wouldn’t have carried your ass here if I didn’t want you here. 

Ian smiled at him, because Mickey fucking cared. He _admitted_ that he cared. “My hero.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey grumbled. “Hit the light.”

Ian laughed but shut off the light before sneaking into the bed with Mickey. He reached his hand out to find Mickey and it landed on his shoulder. He moved it down to laced his fingers with Mickey’s surprised the other boy didn’t pull away.

“Thanks, Mickey,” Ian whispered facing where Mickey was laying.

Mickey didn’t respond but he gripped Ian’s hand tightly. And he didn’t even protest when Ian moved closer, pressing his nose o Mickey’s shoulder as they fell asleep.  

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my [tumblr. ](http://saras-almanac.tumblr.com/post/85318940895/fic-a-day-in-may-day-ten)


End file.
